


KeatsInTheSheets & The Catmiral

by guilt_is_for_mortals



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst with a Happy Ending, Chatting & Messaging, First Kiss, Fluff, Getting Together, Idiots in Love, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, oblivious idiots, the tiniest bit of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-31
Updated: 2020-02-02
Packaged: 2021-02-25 14:00:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22497262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/guilt_is_for_mortals/pseuds/guilt_is_for_mortals
Summary: Two lovers of the written word meet online.KeatsInTheSheets and TheCatmiral love to talk about poetry and life.They also love to complain about their shitty bosses and subordinates to each other.Now they decided to finally meet in person - what could possibly go wrong?
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims
Comments: 79
Kudos: 399





	1. Good Cats

**Author's Note:**

> I know... I know. Another WIP? Don't I have other things to write?  
> Yes, I do.  
> But I couldn't help but share this with you.
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> Also a HUGE THANK YOU to quantumducky, who helped me figure out the story a lot and beta-checked it for me!!

**KeatsInTheSheets:** Hey Cat, I saw you were online and this made me think of you!  


~ attachment funkycat.gif sent ~

**TheCatmiral:** If you could only just see me rolling my eyes right now. Good evening to you, too, K. 

**KeatsInTheSheets:** This evening is only _good_ now that I am talking to you, I had a terrible day at work!

Martin Blackwood sat on the yellow old couch in his sparsely furnished flat, the only source of light in the room the faint blue glow of the laptop in his lap. As a lonely child and now lonely adult, Martin had always spent quite too much time on the internet. When he developed an interest in writing and poems, internet communities where his first place to go. The people who understood him, the ones who thought just like him and made him feel not as lost and different in the world. They might be far away, but they were there whenever he needed them. 

Especially Cat, whom he had met in a heated discussion about Keats poems. Their first few messages hadn’t been exactly friendly (Cat called him a _tasteless heathen_ once), but they soon discovered how much they actually had in common, if you excluded the writings of that one distinct author. They talked, and talked some more, and now there wasn’t a single day that they didn’t text each other at least to say good night and ask how each others days had been. 

Those conversations mostly consisted of Martin complaining about his boss, Jon. Cat never really understood how Martin could be in love with someone who treated him that badly, but he never was rude about it and always tried to help. Or at least cheered him up with cat pictures and memes whenever Martin had had a very bad day at work and got yelled at again. It was such a nice distraction, talking to someone who actually understood him, someone who treated him nicely.

\---

**TheCatmiral:** Oh, mine was terrible, too. There is so much to do, and that one colleague I told you about is making me want to bang my head against the wall sometimes. I know he has a degree and he _should_ know what he is doing, but… how incompetent can one single person be?

**KeatsInTheSheets:** Ugh, yeah, you told me about him. I mean, I don’t really want to talk bad about people, but he really sounds like he is creating more work than he takes of your shoulders.

**TheCatmiral:** He truly is. But I don’t want to talk about him right now, I just want to forget about today - tell me how your day was? Have you seen any good cats lately?

Jonathan Sims smiled at his laptop screen, something he wouldn’t have thought possible only a few months ago. He had joined the writing forum on his search for Leitners - a total waste of time - but somehow he had stuck with this particular site and one particular user. K., as he liked to call him, because he would never use the name _Keats_ to describe his internet friend. 

It was so much easier for Jon, who was a picture perfect introvert, to converse with someone when he did not have to look at them. When he had time to process things that were said to him and was able to think about his answer without the other staring at him expectantly. It was nice talking to K. and it provided a very good distraction when he came home from the office late at night. The only thing he knew about K. was that he was also a man and lived in London. Which did not exactly narrow the field, but being in the same time zones was nice.

He could talk to K. about anything. They talked about their day and sent each other nice pictures, talked about books and poetry, he complained about Martin’s incompetence a lot, and K. always tried to stay nice but couldn’t help it sometimes, which Jon found very endearing. K. had also been the first person who Jon really talked with about his asexuality. K’s profile pic had a rainbow background and so Jon had just assumed he was gay, and the both of them had chatted about it a lot. He even shared the story that Georgie had left him because sex had been important to her and that it had simply not worked out. And K. stayed perfectly polite, understanding her side but also Jon’s and telling him that it was okay and that he would find someone who wouldn’t care about that one day. Or not, if he had no plans to find another relationship. And that that also was okay. It were things that seemed so logical, but Jon hadn’t realized how much he needed to see them written down in the chat window to actually accept them.

Maybe, just a little, Jon was crushing on K., the internet poet whose bittersweet poems and fierce politeness somehow found their way into Jon’s heart.

\---

**KeatsInTheSheets:** No good cats today - except you, of course. 

**TheCatmiral:** Ah, yes, of course, I am the best cat of them all. I can actually purr, I don’t even remember why I decided to practise that particular thing - but it sounds pretty realistic, I’ve been told.

**KeatsInTheSheets:** Oh, you gotta show me that one day, I really want to hear that. 

**TheCatmiral:** Well… I could show you when we meet… maybe soonish?

**KeatsInTheSheets:** That… I would like that, actually. I would love to finally meet you in person.

Martin actually blushed in front of his bloody laptop. Just the thought of finally meeting Cat, hearing his voice - which he imagined to be beautiful, because his mind was a traitor and maybe crushed a little bit on his friend - and seeing him, speaking to him in person… he wanted that so much. Martin sometimes wondered, as they both lived in London, if they ever had crossed paths and just didn’t know. He leaned back into his couch, waiting for Cat’s reply, hoping he wouldn’t drop the topic as he always did when it came up… his heart skipped a beat when Cat’s next message appeared on screen.

\---

**TheCatmiral:** How about… this weekend, on Sunday? It’s supposed to be a really nice day and… we could meet in the park, go for a walk maybe? 

Jon’s heart was racing against his chest, he felt panic welling up inside of him like hot acid. Did he take this to far? What if K. had no real interest in meeting him and that was just their usual online banter, nothing to actually transcend over into the real world. K. didn’t answer right away and Jon was sure that he would simply never hear from him again. 

**KeatsInTheSheets:** Sounds lovely! Maybe we could meet around 2 pm at the old oak? You know, the one in Battersea park I’ve told you about? The one close to the lake, where I love to sit and write. You mentioned that you think you know which tree that is. 

_Breathe_ , Jon told himself, repeatedly. _Breathe_. But how could he continue to function normally when K. replied like this, and wanted to meet at his favourite writing spot? When he was so sweet about it and remembered that Jon had mentioned the Park was not that far from his flat. Jon might have thought about walking by that particular oak tree and just see if someone was sitting there, writing. But it was both creepy and stalking behavior, and the park was at least a 20 minute walk from the Institute and with his current workload and schedule he actually never even found the time to potentially be creepy.

**TheCatmiral:** I should be able to make it to the part at 2 pm, yes, that sounds like a plan. 

And because Jon knew that he wouldn’t be able to form any real coherent messages while lowkey panicking about this meeting, he added:

**TheCatmiral:** Looking forward to finally seeing you. Got to go to bed now, though, it has been an exhausting day. Good night, K. 

  
**KeatsInTheSheets:** Good Night, Cat.


	2. Caught Up In Drama

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You didn't think it would be that easy, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *hiding in her pillow fort*  
> So... this might have gotten a bit more dramatic then originally planned,  
> but trust me... the Happy End will be so much sweeter after this!
> 
> A big thank you to all of you who commented and left kudos,  
> I was so overwhelmed with y'all liking the story so much!

**KeatsInTheSheets:** Good Morning! I must admit, I am quite a bit nervous of today, but in the best kind of way?

**TheCatmiral:** That makes two of us, I guess. Anything I should look out for today, to make sure I am not asking random strangers if they are _KeatsInTheSheets_?

**KeatsInTheSheets:** Oh, yeah, that would be… interesting. I’ll be sitting there with a copy of Keats poems? Also I plan on wearing my favourite yellow shirt, so I guess I’ll be hard to overlook?

~ attachment sparklysun.gif sent ~

**TheCatmiral:** I feel like yellow suits you. I’ll tell you later if that feeling was right. But I gotta run and do some chores before our meeting so… see you soon?

**KeatsInTheSheets:** See you soon, Cat. :)

Battersea park was crowded, which was to be expected on a lovely early autumn Sunday. Jon did not mind as much as he thought he would. He was lost in deep thoughts and moved through the people on autopilot. He was a bit late for his meeting with K. and he didn’t want to keep him waiting any longer. As his heart fluttered at the thought of being so close to meeting the man who had managed to get _cold, prickly Jon Sims_ to develop a crush, he reminded himself that this was NOT a date. 

Only two days ago K. was again rambling about his idiot of a boss, whom he himself had a crush on. Jon didn’t understand how anyone could be mean to someone as nice as K. and why on earth K. had a crush on this terrible person, but there had to be _something._ And Jon shouldn’t judge. It was just as weird to fall in love with a stranger you’ve never even seen, right?

His feet stopped abruptly, and there was a strange moment of his brain trying to realize _why_ they refused to go on, until he managed to process what he saw directly in front of him. Sitting on the bench under an oak tree, reading a Keats poetry book, sat Martin. Jon’s mind was racing to piece together the puzzle of information laid out in front of him. Martin was even wearing the yellow shirt. There was no other explanation. In the end, only one deduction seemed reasonable. Martin Blackwood was K. 

But if Martin was K... that meant that Jon had developed a crush on Martin. On _Martin_ ! It also meant that Jon - and he tried to steady his rambly thoughts, taking a deep breath - it meant that Jon was the awful, horrible boss that K. had fallen in love with. The boss _Martin_ had fallen in love with. 

A wave of panic washed over him, fiery hot and ice cold at the same time and Jon felt a bit lightheaded. What was he supposed to do now? Because he couldn’t just _tell him_ . What would Martin think if he realized that the stranger he had been pouring his heart out about his terrible boss… was his terrible boss. Jon remembered reading about what _that guy_ had done to K. and how bad it made him feel, knowing that K. had been close to tears so often… had he been this awful to Martin? Was he really that mean? Well, he seemed to be. 

Maybe it was time to try and not be a terrible human being for once. Jon couldn’t tell Martin that he was Cat. If Martin found out that it had been him the entire time, and what he had said… oh god, the awful things Jon had said about Martin to K. 

Pins and needles underneath his skin and pale as snow he sunk against a tree to take a moment, to take a deep breath. _He couldn’t tell Martin_. But he also couldn’t just leave him there, alone, right? 

It took him another few minutes to brace himself and get his pulse back to normal, before he detached himself from the tree and made his way over to Martin. It broke Jon’s heart to see Martin raise his head, looking up from the book with such a hopeful smile on his face, only to frown in confusion and slight anger when he saw Jon. Well. He deserved that. He really did. 

“Oh, ah... Martin… are you… enjoying your Sunday? What… brings you here?” He tried to sound as nonchalant as possible. He probably failed. Miserably. 

  
“Hi, Jon. I, uh…” Martin’s eyes flickered towards his wristwatch. Checking the time to see that his mystery date had not yet appeared and was very late. Jon really should have kept his mouth shut, but apparently his body had decided to speak before his brain could intervene. 

“Were you… ah... meeting someone? Waiting for someone?”   
Good God, that would only make it worse, wouldn’t it? How bad would it be if he just left right here and now? 

“Technically yes. Seems like they are late or… not showing up at all.” There was no anger in Martin’s voice, more a sound of resignation, a bit as if he was close to tears. Jon really hated himself in this moment. But it was too late by now, right?

“Mind if I… you know, I could sit with you… and we just wait until they arrive? No point just ignoring each other if we're both here after all… right? I was just… you know, I come by here… sometimes, after work, it is close to… I mean I wasn’t at work today, it is a Sunday, or course, but… it is a nice day, the sun is nice, right..?”

  
All he got was a shrug and a slight huff from Martin, but he slid over a few inches to let Jon sit down next to him on the bench. He looked good, Jon noticed. Martin was always dressed nicely at work of course, but somehow the light jeans, white sneakers and bright yellow shirt made him look much younger than the trousers and jumpers he wore at the Institute. Prettier. The sun bringing out his freckles and his bright eyes sparkling- wait, no. Those were tears sparkling in Martins eyes. Jon wondered just how bad a single person could mess up. 

“You… uh, like poems, then?” Jon asks, indicating the book in Martin’s hands, desperate to break the uncomfortable silence between them.

“Huh, yeah, I like poetry. Sometimes even write it, though I am sure it won’t be… much to your taste. I remember you not being particularly fond of Keats, and I tend to draw a lot of inspiration from him.”

  
 _I know,_ Jon wanted to say, _but I really like yours much better than Keats._

 _  
_ “Ah, you… remember that? Well, maybe I was a bit… I am sure your poems are done very well, Martin.”

\---

On any other day of the year Martin would have been stoked to sit on a park bench next to Jonathan Sims and talk about poetry. Sadly, today was not any other day, and through all the talking with Jon a little voice in Martins head, getting gradually louder, told him that he had been stood up. That Cat wouldn’t show up and didn’t really want to see him. 

Martin thought that he probably was too annoying, that his whining about how Jon hated him and how he felt useless had been too much for Cat. That he had decided to not come at all. Or maybe Cat had already been here, and had seen Martin, who knew he was not exactly the definition of beautiful or sexy. Maybe Cat had turned around without saying anything and gone home. 

Had he been here alone he would probably have left by now, walking home crying and thinking about every wrong word he said that scared Cat away. He wanted to check his phone, to see if there at least was a message and debated whether it was impolite to do so while talking to Jon. He did, eventually. No messages.

„Your… the person you’re meeting?“ Jon looked at Martin in a very strange and somewhat pained way as he put the phone back into his pocket. He probably thought Martin was very rude right now.

„Yeah… or more like no, they didn’t even write and apologize.“ Jon turned very silent and after a few moments stood up, very abruptly. 

„I-I‘m sorry, Martin. I’ve got to go. I forgot… I… goodbye.“ And with that Jon left, practically fleeing from him. 

_Great_ , Martin thought to himself, trying to blink away the tears burning in his eyes. _Just great. My internet crush stood me up, my real life crush flees after 15 minutes of talking. What a sad joke my life is._

Cat wrote, eventually. Quite a few hours too late though, it was almost midnight. Martin, deciding to be dramatic and sulk for at least one evening, sat there watching some stupid romance movie while eating an entire tub of ice cream. He knew he was being ridiculous, but he also didn’t care. He had gotten his heart broken twice this stupid day. And yet it jumped in his chest when the little _bing_ tone sounded from his phone. 

**TheCatmiral:** I don’t even know how to begin to apologize. I panicked, K. I am sorry I did not show up and I hope you can forgive me. Maybe... it is best for us to just keep this online. Because I really would like to still be your friend. If you want to. 

Martin didn't answer. He had no more nerves left for excuses. _Sorry, Martin. You are just not important enough. Sorry, I am sure you understand. Let’s still be friends, Martin, it doesn’t matter that much that I broke your heart, right?_

He wouldn’t answer. Not today at least and maybe also not tomorrow. No matter how much his heart hurt and how badly he wanted to talk to Cat. No.


	3. Happy Endings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon is confused.  
> Martin is angry.
> 
> They are both still terribly in love.  
> Somehow they make it work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We have reached our final chapter!  
> Thank you so much everyone who left kudos and commented, you are amazing and motivated me so much!!
> 
> I really enjoyed writing this, I hope y'all will enjoy reading!
> 
> (It might be a bit rambly, but that is just how my brain works. I hope it is not too bad.)

Jon decided that to simply just ignore Martin would be the best solution to his problems. Martin obviously didn’t want to talk to him anymore, neither online nor offline. Jon also felt like he didn’t deserve to interact with him anymore. After complaining about him online, after not telling him the truth, after everything Martin had written about him when he didn’t know who he was. Now that he knew that Martin was crushing on him. Jon still was convinced that it was a bad idea, as he had told K. - or Martin - when they talked online. 

Martin deserved better, and that did not change now that Jon knew he was the object of Martin’s affection and not some faceless, other terrible boss out there. He tried make it easier for Martin to hate him. It would be for the best in the end.

  
But then of course you couldn’t work together and just completely ignore each other. And - knowing how it worked completely towards the opposite of making Martin hate him - Jon began to actively be nicer towards him. In his own, strange, very awkward way. Because he couldn’t help it. He missed Martin. When they stumbled across each other in the tiny tea kitchen he tried to make conversation once again. 

“Oh Martin… I… you are making tea, I see… would you mind maybe also making a cup for me?” Martin did not look at him, eyes fixated on the leaves he was measuring into a cup. 

“Yours is… always the best, you just… you know how to make it perfect. Please?” Martin opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something, but he didn’t. He took another cup, though, and also made some tea for Jon, silently, mechanically. Of course he knew how to make it perfect. He had told Jon so himself, how he had tried so many times to just get it right and get a praise out of him for making good tea. Jon stood there like an idiot, just watching Martin. Ever since the _date_ he wondered how he had never realized before that Martin was so pretty… although his face was more angry than pretty when he, wordlessly, slid the cup over towards Jon.

“Thank you.” This got the first real reaction from Martin, a raising of his eyebrows, showing Jon once again what a prick he had been all this time. Had he ever really thanked Martin? On the way back to his office he scolded himself for even talking to Martin once again. This was not part of the plan. Martin should hate him. His own feelings would vanish. It would all go back to normal. Right?

  
But when Jon sat at home at night he was lonely. He had never thought to be a person who had a problem with being alone, and he it did not bother him that much that he was actually alone in his room at night. But the fact that he would open his browser, just to remember that no message from K. would wait for him. No talking. No chatting until he was so tired he almost fell asleep on his laptop. No stupid little gifs or memes making him fondly roll his eyes. Jon tried to bury himself in work. Best to keep his mind off of all things… Martin. 

\---

Martin wanted to smash the cup of tea he made for Jon and just scream at him to make his own. He didn’t, of course, he was a nice and polite man… at least he tried to be. But Jon was making him furious. As if it hadn’t been enough to be stood up by the man he crushed on - still was crushing on - now, after all, Jon decided to be _nicer_ to him. He had even thanked him. He had said _please._

_This is what you get for having a breakdown in front of your boss, Martin,_ he told himself while staring angrily at his own teacup. Instead of the usual jerkishness that he now actually could have used to get his feelings to calm down, he got some awkward sort of pity. It was maddening. Jon ignored him for hours, walking by without even looking at him, only to _smile_ at him then when they met again a few minutes later. Martin wasn’t sure if he had ever seen Jon smile and while it made his insides go warm and fuzzy, it was not the way he wanted it to be. What would he have given for Jon to smile at him, to thank him, to ask him to make tea, just a few days ago. But now, knowing that Jon was probably only doing it because he thought Martin was about to start to cry again at any given moment, it just turned the knife in his stomach. 

He knew he could probably end his own loneliness if he wasn’t so stubborn. A week after the park incident Cat messaged him again, but Martin refused to open the message and see which apologies he had this time. Three days in a row he got one single message, every evening. 

  
Martin turned off the notifications. He longed to read Cat’s messages but he refused to let himself run into more heartache. To hell with Cat, to hell with Jon! Martin just needed to get them both out of his head. They both had decided to ignore him - very well, he would do just the same. Ignore them, ignore his feelings. Perfect plan. 

\---

Jon wrote poems. Jon was, in every sense of the word, no poet. He had begun about a week after the terrible park incident. Sitting there in his lonely apartment on his lonely bed with his lonely laptop, he couldn’t help but open the chatbox. Re-reading a few old messages. Wanting to scream at himself for being this stupid. He wanted to fix this so badly. He wanted K. back. He wanted… Martin back. The same thoughts, running in his head on repeat. His attempts at ignoring Martin had done nothing but making him feel worse and Martin also didn’t seem any better. So Jon tried to write poetry. 

He sent a little poem every day. They were terrible and it was probably for the best that Martin didn’t open the messages to see the word crimes Jon committed. And yet he had hoped that maybe, just maybe it would have helped. To at least talk to each other online again. Martin didn’t need to know. Jon could be his support again, could be the person Martin came to when he had a bad day to vent about.. well, Jon, probably. 

After a week he decided to make one last attempt, and to just really pour his heart out onto the crudely rhymed lines he typed into the little chatbox. One last try and then he would just let it be… or maybe not, he knew that he couldn’t. Every day just made it more clear to him that this crush, this feelings he had for Martin wouldn’t fade. They just got worse. He wrote it all down, trying to make him understand. Maybe he read the poems and just didn’t answer, right? He just needed to find the right words… Jon hit _send_ and closed his laptop. He would not sit there and wait for an answer all night. He was not _that_ pathetic.

**_Martin_ **   
  


_As sweet as sugary earl grey_

_or your honeyed smile_

_my heart aches when you’re away_

_we haven’t talked now in a while._

_I can not rhyme, of that I’m sure_

_but for you I might just try_

_as for my love there is no cure_

_the feelings just don’t want to die._

_I miss you in the morning hours_

_your sunshine blinding bright_

_and feel like a bunch of wilting flowers_

_when I’m still missing you at night._

_Oh how I hate I had no clue_

_as I’m an idiot, you know_

_but maybe I can make it up to you_

_maybe there is a way to show._

_I’ve said a bunch of nasty words_

_all I want is to make it right_

_when my heart flutters like hummingbirds_

_and I just want to hug you tight._

_And as I again am rambling on_

_all I hope that you can do_

_is to forgive your awful Jon_

_knowing that he likes you, too._

\---

_Are you really going to make yourself even sadder?_ Martin asked himself as he opened the messages Cat sent to him. It had been yet another terrible day at the Institute. The feeling of wanting to talk to Cat had not simply disappeared, of course, and today it was worse than ever. So he at least could see what the other had to say, right? He could read a few old messages maybe. Have a good cry, that always made him exhausted enough to sleep at least. 

Cat had written him poems. Terrible poems. One for every night it seemed, short, stumbly, crudely rhymed and… and still wonderful. Martin read every one of them, crying after the second one, but still going on to read the next, and the one after that. He had just finished yesterday's poem, and was about to close the laptop and go to bed, as yet another message popped up in front of his eyes. Another poem. 

Martin read it once. He read it twice. He tried to process what was happening here but his brain malfunctioned and for a while he just stared at the words. Martin. The poem was titled Martin and he knew for sure that him and Cat had never exchanged their real names. They had never… his heart skipped a beat as he read the last verse a third time. _Jon_. 

All the pieces fell into place. The whole awful, confusing last two weeks finally started to make sense. His mind was racing. He read the poem once again. Tasting every word on his tongue. Love. Missing. Sunshine. Forgive.   
Jon. 

\---

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” A crumpled up piece of paper hit Jon’s shoulder and landed at his desk in front of him. Turning around he could see Martin, eyebrows furrowed and quite angry looking, standing in the doorway into the office. The light from the hallway behind him made him look like a furious angel. Jon looked down at the paper thrown at him, then back at Martin.

“Tell you… what?”

“Tell me… that you are… him! You could have told me, back in the park!”

“Oh.” 

Jon realized only know what Martin was referring to. How did he find out? Martin wasn’t supposed to know it was him, he wasn’t supposed to be here at all. He decrumpled the paper in his hand and read his own poem. Read Martin’s name. Read his own name. Wondered for a moment if Martin really had printed it out just to be dramatic. 

“Oh,” he said, once again, standing up and turning towards Martin. “You… no, I couldn’t tell you! You were so… you were expecting someone… nice! You were expecting a person you could… talk to and who had treated you right and I… I couldn’t.”  
  
“So you thought it was better for me to believe that I was just stood up then to tell me that you are Cat? Really?!” Martin was still so angry. Jon knew he deserved this anger, he really did. 

“Yes! Yes, because… Martin, all the terrible things I said about you. _To your face_! I always told you that… this boss of yours was not worth it and that you deserved better and my feelings about this have not changed.”

They had, without really noticing, stepped in closer, staring at each other, both with the certainty that they were right. Looking into each others eyes. Their anger fading slowly.

“Did you really mean it, Jon?” Martin asked now, his voice so much softer than it had been before. “What you wrote in that poem? That you… miss me? That you… that you also _like_ me?”

Jon opened his mouth to answer, but the words didn’t want to come out, he didn’t know how. It was all so complicated doing this in person, having to look at Martin while saying it. He was so much better with this kind of thing when he was writing it down. So all he could do was nod, dropping his head, not able to hold eye contact any longer.

“So you… you like me, too. You… you had a crush on K. And then you saw _me_ sitting there and… oh wow.” Martin seemed to understand, now. He seemed to get why Jon had done it. When he looked up again, Martin was standing right in front of him. So close, too close and still not close enough. 

“Well,” Martin whispered, a faint smile on his lips that grew wider with each second. 

  
“So, this means that… you liked me, and still like me… and I can’t stop thinking about both you and… _you_ …” There were warm fingers gently caressing Jon’s cheek, Martin’s warm hand cupping it softly, slowly tilting his head up. 

“I think it means I am a huge idiot.”

“I think it means that I really would like to kiss you now, Jon. Can I… kiss you?” 

Martin looked unsure for a moment, while Jon’s heart skipped a beat. He couldn’t really believe that this was all happening, maybe his brain simply wasn’t used to processing good news by now.

“Yes, please,” he answered with a voice that sounded way to soft to be his own. It was not a kiss like they wrote them in books, no fireworks or angels singing in Jon’s head. But it was the best kiss he had ever had. There was a bit too much of teeth clacking and their noses bumping against each other. It was perfect. Jon found himself wrapped in Martin’s arms, breaking the kiss but keeping his eyes closed, their foreheads touching. 

“I’m really sorry for messing up that much, Martin.”

“I know, Jon. And now kiss me again please, that was not nearly enough.”

Jon very happily did as he was told. He knew that they still would have to talk about all of this. But not now. Now was for kissing Martin. 

\---  
  
“Oh, hey, look, I can add you as my boyfriend on the writing forum. So everyone knows that TheCatmiral is not to be flirted with anymore.” Martin grinned up at Jon, who was carrying a bowl of popcorn and two bottles of coke into the living room.

“Because people are going wild about wanting to flirt with me, yes.” Jon dropped onto the couch next to Martin, snuggling up to his side, leaning his head against Martin’s shoulder. 

“Hey, _I_ was going wild about flirting with you, okay? Nothing sexier than debating Keats.” 

Martin pressed a soft kiss onto Jon’s hair. 

“Sure. Nothing sexier than… Keats pretentious poetry.”

“You are terrible. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jon is bad at poetry because I am bad at poetry and this is about as good as it was going to get.


End file.
